And Then There Was Silence
by Imogen74
Summary: A short story that I need because I just fell hard for Jaime/Brienne and I'm worried about what's next. So here's what my "next" is. Spoilers for Ep2, S8. Probably no more than 3 chapters. Probably. Rated M for language. Some other stuff, maybe.
1. Chapter 1

_Battles aren't really my forte, so unfortunately, I'll be glossing over much. This should not be more than three chapters._

_For JaninaM8. She knows where I'm at with this stuff._

* * *

It wasn't loud…but they all heard it.

And they stopped.

Tyrion's voice was the first. "Perhaps it was a different call."

But Brienne stood, and nodded to Podrick.

The rest of the men stood now, and with a few chance glances, they left to join the ranks.

Tyrion took Jaime's arm. "Don't do anything stupid. You're always doing stupid things."

"Was I the one who killed my father on the shitter?" Jaime returned.

"No. But you were the one fucking your sister, believed every word she ever uttered, and then saved a woman from inevitable rape, only to lose your hand in the process."

He stole his arm back. "You'd be wise not to mention that to me."

"Which part?" Tyrion's voice was calm.

And Jaime's face was blank. "All of it," but he smiled. "With any luck, I'll see you before long," and he left.

"May the gods smile upon you," he said, his voice echoing slightly.

He looked back, offered a curt nod, then left.

Jaime hastened through Winterfell, his breath coming fast. He needed to gain access to the left rise, and find Brienne. He would fight beside her, and save her if he could.

He touched the Valarian Steel of Widow's Wail. He knew he stood a small chance of survival, but it was better than no chance. But what was driving him now, what he thought about on his long journey North, was not only becoming a better person, but righting some wrongs. He desperately wanted to correct things that had been done with or without malintent. He felt used by Cersei. A pawn in someone else's game, always.

And one person who treated him with goodness, with truth, was Brienne of Tarth. And when she vouched for him, his heart welled, and he thought that he'd never be the same.

Because he likely felt kin to her for some time.

But now she declared to everyone, his enemies, those who hated him, that he had honor. Something he never considered he had.

"Thank you," he took his gloves from his page, bundled up best he could. He needed to retain fluid movement because of his handicap.

And out into the night he went. His breath misting in front of him, he moved passed the Dothraki, the Unsullied, the Northerners. All people he had never met, or else had fought against. And now they were on the same side.

He moved still further, hoping that he was able to witness the advance himself…he didn't want to get stuck in the back, for not only were you then blind…

…but there would be little chance of finding Brienne.

The horn sounded once more and the panic rose. He began to run.

…There! "Podrick!"

Pod turned, and smiled a bit.

"Where is your lady?" Jaime came to a halt beside him, scanning the crowd.

"Ser Brienne is there, giving out her last orders," Pod canted his head to his right.

He swallowed, finding her. But Jaime kept quiet, and found his place in the ranks. The horn sounded again, and an arrow flew overhead. He couldn't tell from his vantage point if it had come from Winterfell's battlements or not.

He looked out into the white expanse, and his mouth fell.

There they were, slowly advancing. On the ground at his feet was a shield…and as he looked, everyone had one.

Black. Dragonglass.

They weren't huge, nor were they magnificent. But they were armored with the stuff, and that gave him an even better chance. He was a warrior. He had fought.

"Ser Jaime," she sided herself next to him. "They're advancing."

He looked at her. "I see that."

"Raise your shield when they get close," and Brienne looked at him. "Stay behind me."

And he remembered how, in the bear pit, he had ordered her to stay behind _him_. "No," he replied.

"Are you refusing your command?"

"I am. Because I intend to be next to you," he took the shield with his right, golden hand, and fumbling a bit, secured it. Then looked at her. "There is no place in this world I'd rather be at this moment," he nodded, and smiled.

She swallowed. Nodded. There was no time for sentiment, for when she looked again, they were upon her.

* * *

The dead fell in small numbers. The living were better prepared than they had thought. Jaime had struck down dozens of them, Brienne even more. He did not waver in his resolve…staying near her, never straying far.

And then another horn sounded, and when he looked, a giant was mere feet away from her. He gasped.

"Brienne!" he yelled, running over to her.

He pushed her out of the way just as the wight giant kicked him in his back, and he fell, losing his consciousness as he did.

She turned, looking to see if the giant was going to do any further damage, but he moved on. She crawled over, Oathkeeper still in her grasp. "Ser Jaime," she breathed.

A wight barreled down.

She smote it.

"Jaime, wake up…" she felt for a pulse, suddenly terrified. But it was there. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on," she lifted his lifeless body and swung his left arm around her neck. "Cover me. I'm taking him in," she called to one of her charges.

"Are you in need of help, Ser?"

"No! Mind the line!" she dragged him toward the castle, and for the first time, realized the state they were in.

It wasn't as bad as she had expected. She wondered how many more were waiting in the forest beyond. "This hand…" she muttered, looking at the golden digits extending from his sleeve. It must add ten pounds of weight to him. Though she uttered not a complaint, for it was because of her that he wore it. She winced and kept going.

The wights had not penetrated deep. Winterfell, over the past hour or two of the battle had remained relatively unscathed.

This worried her.

She went in. "Help!" she called, and a few women came over. "Get something to carry him."

"What happened?"

"Kicked in the back by a wight giant. He's still alive," she watched as they put him on a stretcher and lifted him, taking him into the castle.

Brienne swallowed. "I need to get back," she told one of the guardsmen. She looked up along the battlements. "How many more, do you think?"

"No way to tell, miss. But the numbers are thinning."

"Do you know if their King has emerged?"

"Not that I've heard."

Brienne nodded, then left.

The night was still ringing with the sounds of screams, of the dead rising, but less and less of them were emerging from the expanse.

Brienne thought that they must have missed something, and that they'd need to reconvene, assuming most of the Northerners were alive.

She assumed her place once more, and struck down three with one swipe of Oathkeeper.


	2. Chapter 2

Screaming. That's what he heard.

But when he opened his eyes, it was quiet, save the scream of his back. Jaime Lannister looked around…he didn't recognize the place he was in, and he was in a good amount of pain. It was quite dark.

He had no memory of what he was doing, of where he was.

A sound from another corner of the room made him look; and a nursemaid came in. "Oh. You're awake, are you?"

He didn't answer.

"Can you feel your legs?"

Jaime thought. He nodded slowly…but when he tried to move them, he couldn't. He started to gather his arms in a propping up position.

"Now, just a moment, Ser," she came over to him. "Can you move?"

He looked up at her. "No."

"Well, we'll have the Maester come and have a look. Maybe it's temporary," she helped him up to a sitting position.

"Where am I exactly?"

"Why, you're at Winterfell."

And suddenly he remembered. It was the war. The great war. And there was an army of the dead, and…"Where is everyone? Is the battle still going on?" he looked frantically for a window.

"Somewhat, Ser. The fighting's nearly done. I'll tell …well. Whom should I tell that you're awake?"

"Has anyone come?" he doubted it. Perhaps Tyrion.

"Yes. The little man."

Jaime nodded and smiled. Tyrion was so loyal a brother. Pity Cersei never appreciated that. "No one else?" but of course, she was likely still fighting. (he wouldn't think the alternative, it was too horrifying)

"Not that I know of. I'll go and alert him," she left.

So he laid there, thinking about the battle, the fact the he couldn't move his legs. This was disconcerting, but at least he could still _feel_ them. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he was hopeful.

Part of him resented the fact that he wasn't able to fight long. He had struck them down as he could, but it was rather embarrassing…he. Captain of the Kingsguard. Left the battle in its infancy.

"Jaime?"

He looked up and smiled. "Come. Have a seat."

Tyrion went and sat next to his brother, a concerned look on his face. "They tell me you cannot move your legs."

"Not yet. I have feeling in them. That is the more concerning thing in this," he paused. "Outside of the battle. What is happening?"

"There are stragglers."

He nodded. "And? The Night King?"

Tyrion's gaze drifted. "He never came."

"He never…" his tone was one of bemused terror. "But then…"

"He has Daenery's dragon, Viserion. He could be anywhere."

Jaime's face fell. He looked at his left hand, his right stump…they had removed his golden substitute. "King's Landing," he breathed.

"That is what I was thinking as well…he can summon half a million dead at King's Landing. Journey North. There will be nothing left of us."

He felt sick. "Were there many fallen? Here?" he looked at Tyrion.

"Not as many as you'd expect. Most are with us still."

He let out a slow breath. He would not ask about her, for he felt that Tyrion suspected things, and he wasn't prepared to answer questions he barely knew answers to. He was a broken man. He felt as though he was only now regaining some semblance of understanding. Everything heretofore had been clouded by his devotion to Cersei, save a few things.

His friendship with Brienne of Tarth was one of those things.

And perhaps, because it was yet unsullied by speculation and definition, or even declarations, he meant to keep it close.

Or perhaps he was so accustomed to subterfuge that he knew nothing else.

But yet nothing had been admitted, even to himself. And his mind was swimming with thoughts. "Whom have you seen?"

Tyrion looked at him with a sad sort of look. "Sansa Stark. Jon Snow. Bran. I've heard the Queen is burning the edge of the forest atop a dragon as we speak."

"Not Davos? Not Podrick?"

"No. But as I said…there are plenty more just outside, finishing the rest of them."

Jaime nodded, and the door opened. "Ser Jaime," the Maester entered.

"I'll go, then," said Tyrion.

"No stay, won't you? He won't be saying anything to me that you won't hear in an hour."

Tyrion looked at his brother, then the Maester. "All right, then. I'll wait just outside the door."

He watched his younger brother leave, then looked at the Maester. "Do not mince words, Maester. I need no bedside manner."

The man nodded, then pulled on his arm to help him sit forward, allowing a better look at his back.

A quarter an hour later the Maester was readying to leave. "There are other wounded, so I should go. You'll certainly walk again, it's not broken. I'd venture to say a week at most. But you'll need to move after a fashion, Ser. Staying put won't get the medicine working," he set something down next to him. "Twice a day, and milk of the poppy if needed."

"No milk of the poppy," he grunted, sitting back and feeling tired.

"As you like," he bowed and left.

…and Tyrion came in. "Well?"

"A week or so. And I'll walk again."

"Wonderful news! What did he say about your face?" he sat next to him.

"My face?" Jaime's brow furrowed.

"It's terribly disfigured," he smiled. "Not to worry, brother. You have your charms. Unfortunately for you, I inherited all of the wit."

"Tyrion, what's the matter with my face?" he looked for some glass.

"You have words written all over it. Looks suspiciously like L-O-V-E."

He blanched. "Not funny. Don't bring her up."

"No?" he sat back.

"You hate her as much as I. Likely more."

"I barely know her."

And Jaime felt his pulse quicken. "Whom are you speaking of?" his voice was small.

"Why, Ser Brienne of Tarth, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. By the way, that ceremony last night was one of the most intimate, most romantic things I've ever witnessed. I felt as though the rest of us were intruding. Tell me, how long have you loved her?"

* * *

She wiped her brow. There were bits of wights scattered about the ground, the White Walkers had retreated, but they had not all perished. She watched them, looking for the King.

He never came. Maybe twenty thousand. Maybe. And Winterfell had suffered but little.

She wasn't sure if there had been places where there were more dead, who had been resurrected and then killed, but it seemed unlikely. There just wasn't the numbers they had banked on.

She looked for Podrick…she hadn't seen him in a spell.

And she suddenly saw Jon Snow approaching her, looking weary. "Lady Brienne," he nodded. "You're still here, at least."

"Have we lost many?"

"No. And I'm beginning to wonder at that."

"It doesn't seem right. What…?"

"We will be convening in a few hours," he said, interrupting her. "We can discuss all of this then," he smiled at her. "Go in. Clean yourself and eat. There's nothing left out here to do."

Brienne watched him go. She swallowed. People were burning the remains, starting fires to keep warm, but to be rid of the dead at last. "Podrick!" she called.

There was no answer.

Since she was merely staring out into the winter landscape, she decided to make herself useful. She helped for a while with the disposal of the remains, then went in. She had spoken with some of the people at the fire, and they were all wary that there'd be another attack that night.

She didn't have an answer for that, for it was indeed possible.

But somehow, she thought, a full scale attack was unlikely.

Perhaps some wights trying to get inside the castle. But nothing like a battle.

Brienne walked into Winterfell, and leaned against the wall. She was exhausted. And starving.

And she suddenly thought of Jaime…wondering if he was all right. Perhaps she'd clean herself and then find him.

"Lady Brienne?"

She turned. "Lady Sansa," she bowed.

"It's good to see you," she smiled. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No. Just a few scratches here and there," and she started walking toward the door to the innards of the castle.

Sansa walked with her. "Did you find the charge not as bad as you'd imagined?"

"Yes," she opened the door for her. "And that's troubling."

"That's what we were saying. Lord Snow and I."

"He told me that we were to convene once everyone is cleaned and fed," they walked through a narrow passage.

"Are you interested in meeting?"

"Of course I am. I'll change. Peek in on Ser Jaime, then…"

"Was he injured?" she stopped.

"He was. Kicked in the back by a giant wight. But he slew many…served for a couple of hours before he was hurt," she felt like she needed to justify her voucher.

Sansa nodded. "I see. Do go and see him. Ask him if he's well enough to come to the meeting as well," she nodded, then turned.

…as Brienne bowed. She walked along and up some stairs to the small room she had been assigned.

* * *

After she dressed and cleaned herself up somewhat, she went and found the makeshift infirmary and asked a nursemaid about Jaime Lannister.

And she was directed to a corner room.

Brienne approached it, and suddenly, with some nerves, rapped on the door.

"Come in," he called.

And she felt some relief at the sound of his voice. At least he was lucid and awake. She pushed the door open.

"My lady," he said, adjusting himself so that he was sitting more upright.

"Well, Jaime. We'll need to postpone our conversation. I need to find my Queen," Tyrion slid off the chair.

"You needn't leave, Lord Tyrion," she said, touching the door handle.

"Don't be silly. Jaime and I have talked long enough. He's overdone with my banter. Likely needs a softer tone," he smiled to her. "To speak of the battle, and all the wonder it incites."

"Enough, Tyrion," Jaime admonished him.

"And there is my dismissal. I'll see you both soon," he bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Jaime cleared his throat. "Sit, please," he motioned for her to sit next to him. And he wiped his left palm on the blanket.

"Ser Jaime," she nodded, sitting next to the sick bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you. Tell me, what happened?"

"You were kicked in the back by a giant wight."

He shook his head. "And…then?"

"Then I brought you back. And they carried you away."

"What is the state of things out there?"

"Better than anyone anticipated, I think. The numbers are low. There is talk of another attack tonight, but I don't believe it will be of the same scale."

"No," he said, looking at her earnestly. "How are you?"

"Well. Just some scratches."

"You look well."

Brienne cleared her throat. "Are you in much pain, then?"

"No. Not that much. The Maester said I should be walking in a week."

"You can't walk?" her voice held shock.

"I can't move my legs."

She searched his face. "I didn't know."

"How could you?" he smiled, then dropped his gaze. "Tyrion and I were talking…the King never came, did he?"

"Not that I'm aware."

And he looked at her again. "What if he's going to King's Landing?"

"King's Landing," she repeated, and her face fell, stone white. "That would mean…"

"That if Cersei is taken unawares, there could be half a million wights on the march in less than two weeks."

"Lord."

"Just so."

"What can be done?"

Jaime cleared his throat. "We'd need to alert everyone, including the Iron Born, to take up arms. Apart from that, I'm not sure. Dorne? Tarth? Whoever we can recruit. It would be a monumental undertaking."

"We'd never get them all here in time."

"That's the sprit."

And despite herself, she laughed a touch. "They're meeting soon. Can you come?"

He swallowed. "Will they listen? I'm a Lannister."

"You're an honorable Knight, and a lion. They'll listen to you," she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: probably 5 chapters in all. Likely not finished before Sunday's episode, but probably before next week._

* * *

There was only the sound of their breathing, and Jaime looked at her with some veiled disbelief. "It's unlikely that they will take me seriously. You've vouched for me, yes. But I'll be offering advice, or at least, supporting Tyrion, who has recently not impressed the dragon queen."

"It doesn't matter. What you have to relate means something, even if they should dismiss it."

He nodded. "Will you help me?"

Brienne smiled, then nodded.

The room was dark, as were all the rooms of the castle. The hearths were glowing, undisturbed by the fight just hours before.

Daenerys, Jon, Tyrion, Sansa, Davos, and a few others were gathered around a table when Brienne and Jaime appeared. He was being pushed in one of Bran's contraptions that he had disposed of in lieu of a better design.

They silenced when the pair appeared, and watched as she situated him at the table. He did not look at them, but felt more at ease when she sat beside him.

"We are here," began the Queen. "Because that was but one battle. We have not achieved our aim, and there is reason to be concerned that the Night King is mounting a more ferocious battle in the coming days."

Bran arrived, and he sat stoically along the periphery, as had become his custom.

"Where is the Night King?" asked Sansa, looking at Bran.

"He's clouded from my sight."

"There cannot be any doubt that he means to gather more forces," began Tyrion, as eyes fell upon him. "He knows where Bran Stark is, as he had told us. He always knows. Finding him out, then, will not be a formidable task. He has time. He'll use it," the Hand paused, looking around. "And so must we."

"What are you saying?" asked Daenerys.

"I'm saying that the Night King has a dragon," he replied with delicacy.

"And?" Aegon spoke up. "That doesn't change what must be done."

"It changes everything," replied Tyrion. "He can _fly_. Wherever he deems fit. What if he's going to King's Landing? Sacking the city? Destroying the Red Keep? He'd have thousands of fighters once he killed them all."

Daenerys went pale. "He's taking my dragon to King's Landing?" she breathed.

"Viserion is not your dragon, Your Grace. Not anymore," he breathed.

"What do we do?" Davos spoke. "There's only so much we can do with the numbers we have."

"We need more numbers," Jaime said, looking up. "There is more to Westeros than Winterfell and King's Landing."

"And how, Ser Jaime," Daenerys began. "Do you propose we do that? We have the Vale. Some of the Iron Born…"

"Dale. The rest of the Islands. Tarth," he motioned to Brienne. "There are people along the way who may not have been tampered with by the dead. This is no time for wavering," he cleared his throat and looked at the company. "This is time to act. And act we must. Or we'll all be dead, sitting with our thumbs up our asses."

Some were moved by his bluntness, some were not.

"…I mean to say, we send crows immediately. Tell Tormund to get every Wildling down here. Tell Yara to send her fleet. Tell the Dornish that they must take up arms. This isn't about the North and King's Landing. It's about the fate of the entire world, and history will judge us, if there's any history at all," he finished, looking at each of them.

"What about Cersei?" asked Aegon. "We went to her, she told us to fuck off."

Jaime paled. He swallowed. "She'll die, and there will be nothing left to discuss. King's Landing is finished. There's no saving it. But we must save what we can of the rest of our world."

His words rang out in the cavern of the hall.

Brienne was looking at him, and when he felt her gaze, he turned, too.

She quickly looked away.

"Jaime Lannister is right," Bran's voice came from the corner. "Tyrion Lannister is right. We have maybe a week or two before this comes to a head."

"We send crows," began Daenerys. "And we see who answers. What if no one does?"

"Then we prepare to battle and probably die," Brienne replied. "We cannot sit idle."

"Where is Arya?" Sansa asked.

"No one has seen her, My Lady," Davos offered, looking at Varys.

"She was in the fight. I did not see her fall," Aegon stood. "I need a night. Time to think…" he began to leave.

"Jon, you can't," Sansa stopped him. "This needs all of us."

He looked at her, and sat again.

And Daenerys swallowed. "In the meanwhile, do we continue to prepare the men? Do we head them off? And do we try to stop them from invading King's Landing?"

"It would be a waste of precious time to do anything but stay here and prepare the men," Tyrion said. "We need to fortify Winterfell. We need to get more people. The further the King is, the more time we have. And if he advances with half a million wights, we need to have just as many to answer them. They'll need to be ready."

"There will be a smallish battle every night. So, there will be time to prepare," Jaime said. "We can learn their habits. Their ways. It will prepare us for when the Night King comes with the rest of the army."

Daenerys looked around. "Are we in agreement? We send crows along to all of the Houses not represented, and stay in Winterfell to prepare? Assuming that the Night King is going south."

"There can be no doubt," began Tyrion. "That's where he is heading."

The Queen nodded. "Very well," she looked at Missandei. "Send the crows."

Jaime smiled at Tyrion covertly. It had worked. Somehow, it worked. He watched as they all left the room, but Brienne stayed. He felt her next to him. Tyrion nodded at them both.

"Well. That went better than expected," he said with some mirth.

"Come on. I'll lead you back."

* * *

He was relying on her, which both delighted and infuriated him. The notion of him being a Knight, a gallant and honorable one, was always situated along the periphery of his mind…even though he had been told countless times that he was not an honorable man.

Brienne thought that he was.

Perhaps that was what mattered.

She pushed him to his sick bed and situated the chair so that he might lift himself back into it. He struggled somewhat, only because it was rather awkward, but got in eventually. When he looked at her she was gazing out of the window at the far end of the room. He covered himself. "I wonder how long it will take for me to get out of this bed."

She turned. "Take your medicine and try to walk every day, and it won't be long," she went over to the bedside table and handed him a vile of the potion. "Does it hurt?"

"My back?" he downed it.

She nodded.

"No. Not really. It's uncomfortable, as though I need exercise but am bedridden," he smiled.

Brienne rolled her eyes a touch. "You were very convincing. You and Lord Tyrion," she sat down.

Jaime shrugged. "It's what needed doing."

"I hope that Arya is safe," she held a faraway look.

"I…" he couldn't say. He didn't know the young Stark girl well, and there was no reason to believe that she could have survived.

"Don't say it," Brienne said.

"I wasn't going to."

"You were."

He sighed. "It's just that…I would have assumed that if she was alive, she'd have been at the meeting."

She paled. "Yes. I understand what you mean."

"Come, Brienne. You're a Knight. You know the ways of the world."

There was no answer she could think of that would adequately counter his argument. Though she was newly a Knight, she had seen much, lived much. And sometimes she wondered why she was still alive.

"What?" Jaime interrupted her reverie.

"What?" her eyes snapped to his.

"You're far away. Where are you?"

Brienne swallowed. "I don't care to dwell long in reflective things. It's impractical and I prefer to act and defend things and people who I believe in. But sometimes, I suppose, it's useful to consider if everyone you believe in is worth your concern. And sometimes, I think, they aren't."

Jaime nodded. "Never heard someone speak so frugally about thoughts."

"Are you making fun of me?" her brow furrowed.

"No. Well," he paused. "Maybe just a bit," he held out his hand to her, but didn't take it, and it fell back to the bed. "Look. What does this have to do with Arya Stark?"

"Nothing. It has to do with…what I've seen in my travels. How it's changed me. How it hasn't."

"Your concern has always been to defend the truth. What's right."

Brienne shrugged. "It's not always gone to plan."

"Things seldom do."

Her eyes fell. "Tell me, Ser Jaime. Why did you love Cersei?"

He closed his eyes, frowned, then looked away. _He_ barely knew the answer. How could he explain it to her? "It's difficult to explain. But, I suppose, it was a combination of attraction, a shared childhood, and a feeling of being alone in the world save her."

She nodded. "That makes sense. If you're fine with being romantically involved with your sister."

"Are you judging me?" he didn't want to believe it.

"I'm not. It's not something that I could understand, but who am I to make any pronouncements about such a thing as love?"

"Yes. You've never been, have you?"

"I have not."

He looked at her very solemnly. He had not admitted anything to himself…he'd need to come to terms with that before he proclaimed anything, for she was sure to resist. He smiled. "Well, Tormund is quite smitten, it would seem."

Her eyes snapped to his. "What do you mean?"

"Come, Ser Brienne. You saw him. He ogled you and told you he'd knight you ten times over," he laughed, but was desperate for a reaction to the words.

"He's a fine person."

Jaime held his breath. "It sounds like there's an amendment coming."

"However, I'm not interested in those types of pursuits."

He nodded. "Not ever?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He was on the verge of speech, but stopped himself. "I'm rather tired. Perhaps tomorrow you might be able to help me with walking about."

Brienne nodded. "Of course. I'll be stationed outside tonight, and I'll come back just after a short rest," she stood. "Feel better, Ser Jaime."

She left him there, and he laid back. He _was_ tired. But he also didn't want to give her further reason to be angry with him. He fell asleep shortly thereafter.

* * *

Brienne had gotten some food, a bit of rest, but with daylight being so sparse, she didn't get much. She walked out into the deep cold, the white glow emanating from the landscape. Fires were scattered about like discarded armor…but they were more valuable than any sword.

Save perhaps Oathkeeper.

She held it tightly. She truly loved that sword.

"Lady Brienne."

She turned. "Lady Sansa," she bowed. "What are you doing in the cold?"

"Wondering about Arya."

Brienne nodded. "Yes. We were just speaking of her not long ago."

"Who?"

"Ser Jaime and I."

Sansa looked away, into the woods beyond Winterfell. "You care for him."

"Who?"

She smiled and turned back. "Jaime Lannister."

"Well, he's misunderstood, I think. Yes, he's made some terrible mistakes. But so have most. And I believe, with all my heart, that he has honor."

"So you said," and she began to walk. "In what ways is he misunderstood?"

"He fought for his house, and his sister and father were ruthless and less than honorable. And his love for his sister clouded much of his life."

"It's strange, isn't it? It wasn't as though Cersei was a kind person."

They reached the edge of the courtyard. "Love is strange, as I understand, my Lady."

"It is and it isn't. But I think that love means protecting those whom you love. It means sharing the parts of yourself that no one else knows about. It means laughter, trust, and sometimes other things, depending on the people."

Brienne was looking at her very intently. "That all sounds right."

Sansa smiled. "And if you find that, you should not let it go."

"Have you found that, ever, Lady Sansa?"

"No. But I'm sure you will."

Brienne blanched. She was surely making fun of her, so she changed tact. "Is it something that you want?"

Sansa's face held some sadness. "Perhaps. One day, and if we survive this war."

Brienne watched as she went back to the castle, and waited for the sounds of the dead to pierce the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaime Lannister heard the rush of blood through his ears as he pushed himself to his limit.

His arms were shaking as he tired to steady himself on the chair. It was unfortunate that the chair had wheels, for it served as a poor steadying device. He could bear his weight on his legs, but they remained stubbornly docile. He still could not move them…but at least now he could stand.

Jaime was going to fight when the Night King came. He was. He would be beside Brienne if he had to sit in that fucking chair.

"Ser Jaime!"

He turned. She was rushing to his side…and he stumbled, falling into the bed. "Ser Brienne," he managed, turning and sitting up.

"I thought that you were going to wait for my assistance," she stood there, watching him concernedly.

"Well, you'll likely not always be here to help. Best I start somewhere," he grabbed his legs with his left arm and pulled them back onto the bed. He hated that he was so handicapped. He only had one working limb.

She swallowed. "You could have fallen," and she moved his chair and sat on the wooden one.

"Yes, well. I suppose I could have. But that doesn't mean that I'd be hurt again. There are no giants that I can see…" he smiled.

She blushed. "I wish you wouldn't make fun."

"Sorry?"

"I know I'm monstrously tall. But that doesn't mean…"

"I was kicked by a giant in the back, those were your words," he interrupted. "I was not speaking about you or your height. I wish you'd realize that I'm sincere and that I have no intention of causing you pain."

She smiled very slightly. "It's difficult after a lifetime of it."

He nodded. "I've dealt with 'Kingslayer' and 'Oathbreaker' for twenty years. I know what it's like," he paused. "Well. Maybe not exactly. You cannot help your impressive height."

"Nothing impressive about it, really."

"No? Does it not help you in battle? Does it not render you a formidable opponent?"

Brienne looked at him. "It does both."

"Then I'd say it's impressive, and most Knights would be pleased to have it."

"Not many Ladies would."

Jaime sighed, sitting back. "No. But you never wanted to be a Lady. You wanted to be a Knight."

"I wanted…" she began. "To be both. But the world does not favor Ladies who look and act like me. It supports old ideas and labels that many people cannot wear. And so I abandoned the notion, and decided to embrace the warrior label. But that doesn't change who I fundamentally am, nor does it make me less of a woman. Well," she paused. "Perhaps a little."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I do not need your pity."

"I mean no offense. You once listened to me speak of my station in this world, and you're the only one who knows it. Not even Cersei nor Tyrion, though my brother knows some of the story. He's persuasive," he smiled very slightly.

"Podrick knew mine."

He swallowed. "Is he…?"

"We cannot find him."

Jaime's gaze fell. "Tell me your story, Brienne."

She cleared her throat. "My father wanted to make a good match for me. He's a good man, basically. So he held a ball," she paused, then stood, went to the window. "And all of the eligible men in the land came, for Tarth holds some wealth. No sapphires," she smiled to herself. "But wealth nonetheless. I danced with many…and I was so happy. They told me in soft tones that they'd take me away to their castles…and I believed them," she paused. "I wanted to believe them. Until it became too obvious that they were making fun of me. They laughed…and I realized just how ugly and monstrous I was. I hold no delicacy…" she closed her eyes. "Renly then came to my side. He began to dance with me. He said, 'Don't let them see you cry. They're nasty little shits, and nasty little shits aren't worth your tears.' From then on I wanted to save him, as he had saved me," she turned back around, and when she looked at Jaime, he was transfixed. "But I failed."

"Brienne. You're neither ugly nor monstrous."

"You don't mean that. You've made your own comments…insulting me…"

"But that was…" he hated himself then. "I was your prisoner. Trying to goad you in order to escape. So much has changed since then."

"And so much hasn't," she went over. "Get up. Let's walk."

"No…we need to finish this."

She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I simply do not like having to worry about people I care for making fun of me."

"But I'm not! I wasn't. I'm just…an irritating, sarcastic ass. That's all. Don't you know that?" he added softly.

"It's fine. I do. But when it comes to me, it hurts."

Jaime nodded. "I won't do it again."

She swallowed. "Come on," she reached for him.

He took her hand with his left, his only. "You are lovely, Lady Brienne," and he kissed her knuckles. She told him she cared for him…to his face. And he was moved.

She almost yanked her hand away…but she didn't, and helped him to standing. "Put your arm around my waist. We can start there."

He did so, and he grasped her tunic, relishing how close they were. "Where will you take me? I'm at your mercy."

"We will start with the window," and she turned hm toward it. "Now, right foot," she waited as he dragged his right foot in front of him. "Left," and he painstakingly moved his left. "See? You _can_ move your feet."

"Wonderful. As long as the wights move as fast as Tyrion holding a bottle of wine being ordered into battle, I'll be fine."

"Stop it," but she chuckled.

* * *

It had been two days, and he was improving. In fact, he could walk, slowly, by himself. Brienne had kept her promise and came to his room twice a day. They had begun to venture into the castle…

And Jaime was now sitting by the fire in the great hall, sipping wine. He had taken his potion as directed and felt almost better. He prided himself on never accepting milk of the poppy, though there was no real reason to hold pride in something like withstanding pain. Everyone had it, to a greater or lesser degree.

"What's going on in that mind of yours?"

Jaime looked up. "Pain remediation."

Tyrion sat next to him. "Are you in much?"

"Not really. It's better."

He nodded. "We've had answers from much of the crows. Most are coming."

"Most?"

"Dorne has proven to be reluctant. But we've got the Summer Isles on the way, the rest of the Iron Isles, even some in Essos. The problem is, they'll likely be too late."

"And what of the rest of Westeros?"

"All on their way. Including the Wildlings."

Jaime nodded. "Well, it's something."

"I alerted Cersei."

"You did."

"I had to. How awful would it be to leave her there, defenseless and unprepared?"

He looked at the fire. "I cannot be impartial when it comes to her. So it's best I say nothing."

"And what of Ser Brienne? Unable to be impartial about her, too?" Tyrion sipped his wine.

Jaime swallowed, then downed his wine and poured some more. "It's complicated."

"It isn't. People make things complicated."

"Well, seeing as how I'm a person…"

"Jaime. Look at me."

He did.

"I know you as well as anyone, perhaps even more than Cersei. I know that you love her."

He sighed. "I suppose I have for quite some time. It started as an irritating relationship, then moved on to amusement, to respect, to caring. And somewhere it transformed. I cannot say where or when…" he paused, then looked at him. "Ned's sword. It was melted and made into Widow's Wail. And the other half was given to her…by me."

"You should say it out loud. Say it, Jaime. It'll make it easier once you tell her yourself."

"Am I going to tell her? I don't know."

"Well, you're not going to sit idly while death is knocking, are you? What good will it be to die with those words in your throat? And should you both survive somehow…" Tyrion sighed. "Tell her. Perhaps you both can enjoy some happiness in these last days. Besides, it might be the only truly healthy relationship you've ever had."

He chuckled. "Can't argue with that," and he sipped.

"Does she love you?"

Jaime closed his eyes. "No. I don't think so."

"Well, perhaps she only requires a push."

"Or perhaps she only sees me as a friend."

Tyrion nodded. "Possibly. But you're still moderately handsome. You have some wit, albeit but little. You're a fine Knight, sometimes. You're only somewhat broken by your relationship with your sister…" he paused. "Never mind. You're a right mess. You shouldn't tell her."

Jaime laughed. "But there it is. What can I offer her?"

"I think you've already given it to her. She wanted to be a Knight."

"But then I have nothing else…"

"Oh, come now brother. You have you. And if she wants that, that's all you need to offer," Tyrion stood and poured more wine.

Jaime felt his throat constrict. "She doesn't. And is it fair to burden her with this knowledge?"

"Nothing is fair. But she'd appreciate the truth."

He closed his eyes. "She thinks she's a monster. That she's ugly."

"Excellent. You have plenty of experience with those kinds of thoughts."

"What do you…?"

"Jaime. Have I or have I not been the subject of such ridicule my entire life?"

He smiled at him. "Thank you, brother."

Tyrion nodded, sat back down. "I hope that the two of you find happiness…here, at the end of all things."

* * *

She was practicing her stance. Balance, concentration…she held Oathkeeper in her grasp. She turned and swung her Valarian Steel at an invisible opponent.

"You're quite something to behold."

Brienne turned to see Jaime in the doorway of the courtyard. There was no one else there. "You're up and about. That's good to see," she sheathed her sword and went over to him.

"Thanks to you."

"Well, it was the least I could do, considering."

"Considering what?"

"You saved my life, again."

He nodded. "Seems we keep doing that. Ever wonder why?"

She looked at him. "Honor, and…"

"It's not honor, Brienne. Honor compels you to fight on a side. You are not always on my side."

She turned away and started back inside. "I am, though. You are my friend."

He followed her, though a bit slowly. "You'll need to lessen your stride, friend, if we are to walk together."

She smiled, then slowed. "Sorry."

"But yes. We are friends. As true as I've ever had."

"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I mean that," she looked at him as they walked on.

"As it has for me," he swallowed…they were in the castle, there was a small alcove lit with a torch just to his right. "Come," he touched her arm, and guided her into the recess, his heart pounding. "Lady Brienne, there is something that I need to discuss with you. It's of some importance, and I'd appreciate your listening until I'm through, without interruption, as it is delicate in nature."

"All right," her brow was furrowed.

"Promise me that you'll listen until I'm through."

"I promise."

"You won't leave this alcove."

"No."

He nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leaned against the stone wall, Brienne directly across from him. "I was in love with my sister." He opened his eyes.

She nodded.

"And that relationship has mired everything in my life. I fathered her three children. And I had to pretend that they weren't mine. Pretend that I didn't love her. At least, as more than a brother. And I became accustomed to it, so much so that it was second nature to me. All of the lies, the hiding, the…well. It was my life.

I took it as a fact, and that loyalty to Cersei was all that mattered. And I acted accordingly. I do not know when I began to realize that she was mad. But I think part of me always knew, and it was easier to deny it.

So I did," he looked at her. "What I've always wanted was to love someone and have them return it, loving me as myself. To accept me without condition. I believed that Cersei did. But she did not."

Brienne's face was indiscernible.

He swallowed, looked at the ceiling, then back. "It didn't occur to me that I could ever be moved by anyone else. I always said that _we don't choose who we love._ And I believe that. We don't. But Cersei soon became a habit, and I'm not sure if that's love," he searched her face. "I came to Winterfell, because I felt compelled to. I felt compelled to because it's the right and honorable thing to do. I felt compelled to because I didn't know what else I could do to be right and honorable. I felt compelled to because I knew that you would be here, because it is right and honorable. And I wanted to see my friend before either of us died. But also because…" he felt his throat constrict, and he swallowed, looking down. "Because I _have_ been moved. Because you are everything that I've aimed to be in this life. And because I'm in love with you," at that he looked at her.

Her face was white…she took a step back. "What?"

"Please don't make me say it all again."

"How could you say those things?"

"Because they're true, and I couldn't not say them."

Her head fell.

"It would seem that you do not reciprocate," his voice cracked. "I …"

"Damn you, Jaime Lannister."

He began to panic. "Brienne…"

"No. You had your speech. Now you need to hear mine," hot tears welled her eyes, some spilling on her face. "Of course I reciprocate. But there is absolutely nothing that we can do about it."


	5. Chapter 5

She could hear the crackle of the fire and her own breath holding down her sobs. She couldn't look at him. She swallowed, still staring at the floor. "I …" she cleared her throat, feeling her hands shake. "I want to believe this," she breathed.

"I swear on all that I hold dear that it's true…" she didn't see him reach for her then hesitate.

"But even if it is," and now she looked at him. "There's nothing to be done. We are not in any position to do anything about this. And I wouldn't know what to do if we could."

"I don't understand. Neither of us are married. There is no legal impediment."

"We swore to protect the Seven Kingdoms. We are at war," Brienne paused. "And I have never known love. In any way. I have no idea what to do."

"If you're talking about…" he felt the blood rush to his face.

"I'm not. And I am. I'm talking about all of it. I know one thing, and one thing only. And it isn't love."

"Brienne, if you do feel as I do, then please tell me. We can have a few days of happiness. Isn't that worth it?"

"At what price?" she cried.

"Do something for yourself for once! Lord you are stubborn. It's incredible…I go from loving one of the most selfish people in Westeros to one of the most selfless," he shook his head. "Tyrion was wrong. Things are immensely complicated."

"You are sincere," she looked at him, tear-streaked face red…"You mean it."

"Of course I do," he crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall again.

"How? You're you…and I'm me."

"I don't understand."

"I'm…not a lady. Knights woo ladies."

"Have you been listening at all?"

She stared at him.

"Brienne?"

She swallowed, then looked away. "When I was a young girl, I would dream that a Knight, not some Prince or King, would come to my home and stay there. He'd teach me all that he knew about chivalry and swordsmanship. He'd tell me how to fight. And then he'd take me away on adventures, and we'd fall in love. And he'd tell me that he'd build a small house in the forest and we'd live there."

He nodded. He sensed that she wanted to speak longer, and though he was happy to listen, his legs wouldn't withstand much more. "Might we find a place to sit? I don't think that I can stand much longer."

Brienne turned and walked down a narrow hall towards a small, candlelit chamber. A squire was there, and he removed her armor for her. "Thank you," she said to the squire, and she sat, Jaime sitting across from her. "And that was that. That was the end of it. And though I loved Renly, he'd never love me back…perhaps that was why. Because he was safe.

And I thought that you were safe, too. How could Jaime Lannister, Captain of the Kingsguard, Kingslayer, golden child of the Lannister lion love me? So I did so in secret, never really admitting it to myself. And there was always your sister there. All of the mess that came with that."

He dropped his gaze. "It was rather a mess, wasn't it?"

She didn't answer. "Cersei knew that I loved you, probably even before I did. In fact, it might have been she who planted the seed."

Jaime didn't respond. How very like Cersei to see something no one else could.

"How is any of this possible? And why now?"

"Because…I suppose my loyalty demanded that I stood by Cersei. No matter what. And now, now that I'm free of that…I was able to follow my heart."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Brienne," he reached and took her head. It was trembling. "I love you. Perhaps you are overthinking all of this."

She smiled, and more tears fell. "I've never been more confused in my life. I've always had the answer…or at least trust I knew who could give me the answer."

"What can I do to convince you?"

"Give me a few hours. I need to think."

He nodded. "Do not leave this castle. Do not go out and fight before we speak again…"

She nodded her answer.

"I want your word."

"You have it."

And Jaime stood with more strength than he had since the battle. "I'll be by the hearth in the great room in two hours. Please find me there," he bowed and walked away.

Brienne let out a sob, covered her face, and slumped in the chair.

* * *

She found Sansa reviewing battle plans with Daenerys and Aegon, though he was still Jon to her. They were pointing at things she could not see…Tyrion entered and began talking to them all.

"Pardon me, my Lords, my Ladies. Might I trouble Lady Stark for a moment? I know you are discussing important plans, but it won't take long."

Sansa looked at her and smiled.

Tyrion nodded. "Come, Your Grace," he said to Daenerys. "Let's have supper. Will you join us, my Lord?"

Aegon looked at them. "I'll be in my chambers readying for the night's battle," and he turned.

"Please don't disperse on my account."

"Never mind, Ser Brienne. Lady Stark likely wants a break from all this."

Sansa smiled at him. "I'll be along shortly," she turned to Brienne. "Let's sit," and they walked over to the hearth.

She followed her and sat across.

"What's happened?" Sansa saw the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, my Lady!" she was attempting to control herself without much success.

"Lady Brienne…please. Tell me what's wrong."

She nodded and folded her hands. "Something has happened, and I don't know what to do about it."

Sansa nodded.

"It concerns Ser Jaime."

She canted her head. "He loves you."

Brienne's eyes snapped to hers. "How do you know?"

"I'm afraid it's rather obvious," Sansa smiled.

"Is it? How could I not have seen?"

"Because you were too busy masking your own heart."

Brienne looked at her. "Does everyone know?" she felt mortified.

"No. Or, at least, no one is speaking of it. We've all got other things on our minds at present," Sansa smiled more covertly.

"What do I do?"

"Have you never loved?"

She shook her head.

"Well, neither have I. But if I ever did, I wouldn't sit and let it pass me by. Is a long life lived without love better than a short one lived with it? I don't know. But most people do not regret having loved."

"Well, Jaime has. He loved his sister."

"Yes. That is complicated. But it seems as though that is over, so why not move on?"

Brienne shook her head. "I don't know."

"Do you love him, yes or no?"

She nodded.

"Perhaps that is all that you need to know."

* * *

He had moved as best he could to his room, the one Lord Snow had given him just the day previous. It had been a kind gesture, and Jaime appreciated it. He would have been fine in the infirmary.

But Jon came and told him to gather his things, and he led him, slowly, down a passageway to a small room they had created for his privacy. It had a bed, candles, a table and chair. There was a very small window. Jon Snow had apologized, but all the bedrooms had been accounted for, so he had no hearth. He had suggested rooming with Tyrion, but Jaime appreciated the privacy his room afforded. He felt uncomfortable at Winterfell. Not unwelcome, but at unease.

He waited there, exercising his legs, bending his back. He was watching the sky, but it was impossible to tell the time from that window, so he finally just got up and went to the great room, with a surprising stride. It wasn't quite as quick as was normal for him, but nearly. And his pain was all but gone.

Jaime sat by the fire, staring at it.

Would she come? She had promised, so he assumed that she would.

He found himself contemplating his relationship with her as he sat there…from their travels through Westeros and the way in which he regarded her, to when he lost his hand. He glanced down at it.

Why had he done that? Had he even protected her…? He assumed she hadn't been raped, but his hand had forfeited all thoughts save that. And did he love her then?

No. He supposed it was more of a respect. A growing trust. A friendship.

It was in the baths at Harrenhall that he thought that the first seeds of love were planted. He told her his story. He trusted her with that knowledge. And that was how it began. Thereafter, he felt kin to her. A need to see her safe. A desire to know that she was alive in the world. That she was his better self.

Because she knew him, and she still seemed to like him. Even care about him.

And though they saw one another but little, those times always effected him, and he would think about her for days afterward.

But here, at Winterfell…seeing her. Indeed, coming here partly because he _needed_ to see her…it was then that he fully realized what was happening. What had happened.

He loved her.

"Ser Jaime?"

He looked up. There she was.

He stood. "Ser Brienne." She appeared to be quite nervous. He dropped his gaze so that she might feel more at ease. "Do sit," he gestured to the chair next to him.

She did, and clasped her hands tightly together. She sat swallowing and staring at the fire.

He waited patiently for her to speak, for he had said all he needed to.

"Thank you for allowing me time," she began.

"It was nothing."

"I know that you are anxious for my answer, or at least, I believe that you are."

"Which answer is that?"

She looked at him. "Well, I suppose…what we are to do."

"Ah, yes," he nodded.

"Are you playing with me?" she furrowed her brow.

"Not at all. I just feel as though there are many answers to be given. But yes. The most pressing is surely what we should do now."

Brienne stood and went over to the fire. "All my life I've been mocked. It's very difficult to let that defensiveness go."

"Of course."

She nodded. "It seems impossible that the two things that I've wanted my entire life are being given to me. I had resigned myself to a life as a warrior, not a Knight. As a warrior, not a Lady. Not even a woman, really."

"You can be both, Brienne," Jaime stood. "No man relinquishes his manhood when he becomes a Knight," he walked over to her.

"No. But the world is very different to women."

"True. Though I've always been impressed with strong, capable women. Say what you will about Cersei, she is strong and capable," he turned to the fire. "Lady Stark appears to be both. How wrong I was about her," he smiled. "And you," he looked at her. "You may be the strongest, most capable of them all."

Brienne smiled, a genuine thing. "Thank you."

And he turned fully toward her. "I gave you Oathkeeper. It was all I could do. I trusted you with my honor. And now I'm trusting you with my heart."

She let out a staggering breath. "I love you," it was the first time she had said it.

His face fell, his eyes fixed on her…and he walked over to her. Jaime cupped her face with his hand, then traced her mouth with his thumb, examining it. "Have you ever been kissed, my Lady?"

"Not with tenderness, no."

"What a shame," he took his hand and placed it in a wrap around the back of her neck, then pulled her to him. And with as much care as he could muster, he took her lips in his, for his passion had been ignited, but he felt conflicted…he wanted her to know that he meant to be gentle, but that he desperately wanted her, too.

It was soft, and she was untrained. But her hands rested on his shoulders, and he moved closer…he deepened the kiss slightly, licking her bottom lip and opening her mouth a bit. "Relax, Brienne," he said into her mouth, he felt her tense. His hand went down her back…he pulled his face away and rested his forehead to hers. "You're nervous."

"I …"

"Sh…I'm just making an observation, and trying to work out how to set you at ease."

She pulled away a bit further. "This is very new to me, Jaime. I can't help my nerves."

"I understand," he looked at her. "Let's have a walk, hm? How long until the battle tonight?"

"Impossible to say, really. A few hours?"

"Perfect," he took her hand. "Come," he had never really wooed a lady before, but he was a romantic. Much more so than Cersei, and clearly more so than Brienne. Yet he thought that a woman in love with romance, at least a bit, lingered under that tunic she wore. She wanted a Knight to be gallant and love her.

He could be that for her.

They walked to the courtyard hand in hand, not saying much. "Where is your cloak?" he asked her.

"Oh…in my rooms."

"Shall I fetch it?"

"No. I'll get it. And yours," she left.

A moment later she returned and they put the cloaks on. "What do you say we watch the young warriors spar and offer them tips?" he smiled.

She laughed. "All right."

They went out and beheld the men…mostly in twos and threes, littered about the courtyard. Brienne was instantly captivated. "You there! Adjust your stance. It's creating poor balance!"

Jaime smiled.

They were all standing around the fire, about twelve men in all. No one had seen Podrick. Brienne's face had fallen. He was surely dead now.

Davos was there, warming his hands.

"There are fewer each night. And tomorrow I understand that many more troops are arriving from all over the country."

"Wonderful news," said Jaime.

Davos looked at him, then Brienne. "So. You're the Kingslayer."

"I was," he replied.

"And what changed your mind?"

"Sorry? Changed my mind?"

"Well. To be honorable."

Brienne looked at Davos. "Ser Davos, Ser Jaime has always had honor. While it's true he murdered King Aerys, perhaps it would behoove those who question his honor to ask _why_, instead of assuming they know the answer. It's not my place to tell his story, but I know it. And what he did may not have been honorable the way we think of it, but it was the right thing to do."

Jaime beamed at her. "It is not worth relating. Twenty years have gone by," he looked at Davos. "I've tried to be a good person. I've made plenty of mistakes, likely more than most. But I do not regret what I did, for I believe, with all my heart, that I saved the lives of every person in King's Landing that day."

"Fair enough," said Davos. He clapped his hands together. "We need music!" he called. "Enough dwelling in the doldrums of this winter waiting to die. We likely only need two dozen men tonight, for last evening we only had about a dozen dead. Let's make some merriment and wait for the sun's two hours of light."

And someone came with a Psaltery, and began to play. The others clapped along, and someone started to sing. Davos poured out wine…

Brienne took some wine and smiled as she watched the players.

Jaime glanced at her after sipping his own wine. He placed the cup on a stone. "Will you dance, my Lady?" he held his hand to her.

Her face fell somewhat, for memories came rushing back…"Here?"

"Here."

He took her hand in his and turned her round…and before she knew what was happening, they were dancing. And the company clapped and cheered…some of the infirmary nursemaids came out to dance with the solders.

Brienne began to laugh aloud, Jaime along with her. And he honestly couldn't remember just when he had laughed so hard.

The sun had already begun its descent, and the music slowed. Jaime stopped and guided her back inside, still grasping her hand. "Casterly Rock is a wonderful place, situated above cherry trees that blossom pink in the spring and bear fruit nearly the entire summer. There are brooks along the way…it stands tall in the meadows surrounding it. It sits high upon a precipice, and the waves crash against its walls, lulling you to sleep at night," he led her to an alcove, then pressed her against the wall. Jaime kissed her neck. "You would be my Lady there…and you would walk among the trees in high summer," he trailed kisses up her jawline. "And we would grow old together, by the sea…" he found her mouth and tasted the salt of her tears. He took his left hand, and rubbed his thumb across her cheek, wiping her tears away.

She answered his kiss, more fervently than before. And he was overcome, pressing himself against her, deepening the kiss quickly…he ran his hand down her side, pulling her closer. "Brienne…" he breathed. "Don't go tonight."

She pulled away. "I must."

"No… you must stay with me," he kissed her softly.

"I'll be back."

"And where will you go?"

Her face paled. "I …my room, I suppose."

"Might I join you there?"

She swallowed.

"Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen," he kissed her hand.

She nodded quickly. "I should go and prepare," she moved away and left him.

"As should I," he smiled.

* * *

_AN: Yikes. I'm a wretched liar. Next chapter will definitely be the last. Thank you for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

The night was full of sound. Winds picking up, snow blowing, dead screaming. Brienne of Tarth was standing atop the battlements, looking down. There had been a handful of wights that evening. And the other houses had begun to arrive. She thought that they stood a chance…if somehow it was correct that the wights and White Walkers would die once the Night King fell, then maybe. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe not all of King's Landing would perish.

That was a lot of maybe's.

Brienne's mind was not there, however. It was on Jaime.

He said that he wanted to be at full health by the time the Night King moved north. And she believed that that was best, too.

But it wasn't just that. It was the fact that he loved her, and he was expecting her that night. She was incredibly nervous.

"Ser Brienne?"

She turned quickly. "Lord Tyrion," she nodded, stepping away from the edge.

"Not sure about the 'Lord' bit. But thank you…" he cleared his throat. "It's dreadfully cold. Won't you come in? Perhaps have a drink?" he smiled.

"Well…"

"The dead are all but gone, save the half a million in King's Landing. Why not relax by the hearth?"

She shrugged, then followed him.

They walked through a corridor and a dark passageway. Tyrion seemed to have a very specific place in mind. There was a room adjacent to the great hall that he led her. It wasn't the map room, but it was about the same size. "Sit, please."

She did, taking off her armor rather arduously.

"Hm…" Tyrion left, after watching her for a moment. "You there!" she heard him call. And a page came in, and began to help her with her clothes. She had some things under, and sat after putting her cloak back on. The cold simply seeped through the stone of the walls. "That better?"

Brienne nodded, her gaze fixed downward.

And Tyrion sat. "Well, my Lady. Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you."

He smiled. "You'll pardon me if I have one."

She offered no response.

He considered her for a moment. "You and my brother Jaime are in love with one another."

And now she looked. "Has he spoken to you?"

"Not exactly. But I saw it."

She swallowed. "And what did you see?"

Tyrion sat back. "My brother has known but one love his entire life. He loved his father, true. I believe that he loves me. What he had with Cersei…well. That was different."

Her eyebrows went up her head.

"To put it mildly," he amended.

"I've not known that sort of love."

"Quite right. Which is why I've asked you here."

Brienne sat back now, too. "Perhaps I'll have that drink."

"Excellent," and he got up and poured her some wine.

She took it, smiling. "Thank you."

"Now, you should know that I want only for Jaime to be happy. In fact, his happiness likely trumps everyone else's in my mind save my own."

She swallowed.

"But I admire you. And I wanted to speak to you, because I'm concerned about what he'll do should you both move forward with your…hearts."

"Sorry? What he'll do?"

"Oh, do not mistake me. I'm not talking about his leaving you, or hurting you. Rather, his inner conflict and guilt where my sister is concerned."

"You think that he loves her still."

Tyrion nodded. "But that's changed. Something happened that made him change his mind. But a love that lasted as long as it did, was as intense and immediate…it doesn't disappear."

She downed her drink, poured out some more. "Do you think that he's lying to me?"

"Not in the least. He's not lying about his heart…I do not believe he is capable of it. And his feelings are true to you, of that I am sure."

"Then I don't understand…"

"Be wary, Brienne. And know that he is just as new to this as you are. He's not had his heart touched much, and that which did, was toxic."

"I fail to see your point."

He smiled at her. "Jaime is broken. But he can be mended. My purpose here is simply to alert you. To be that voice in your head that causes you to pause a moment before you judge him."

She canted her head. "And what makes you think that I'd judge him?"

"We all judge people, Brienne. And doubt may creep into your mind, and though I do not know my brother's heart exactly, I have no doubt that he does love you," he sipped.

She blushed, which was absurd, for she hardly ever blushed. "Do you know what he plans to do where your sister is concerned?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"No," she replied.

"You're scared."

"Of?"

Tyrion smiled. "We are not dissimilar, you and I . We are both monstrous to many. Every time I've loved, I've experienced fear that I'd be hurt. I imagine you feel the same way."

"I am not scared," she glared at him. "I'm inexperienced."

"So…nervous then."

She dropped her gaze. "I …had never thought about it. It never seemed likely."

"Well. Here you are. Best start thinking about it."

Brienne downed her drink. "He's expecting me."

"Very good. I'm certain that we'll see one another soon," he tipped his cup.

She rose, nodded, and left him there.

* * *

…and all the way, she felt rather ill. She _was_ nervous. What was he going to expect? Would he be disappointed?

And she hated that she was thinking these things. She never gave those sorts of thoughts much mind.

She reached her door and swallowed, pushing it open.

The room was empty, the hearth newly lit.

Had he changed his mind? She noted the armor having been placed on a chair…she went in and touched it.

This was her constant. This was what she knew. Yes, Jaime had been a part of her life for some time, but it had been sporadic and inconstant.

Yet she loved him. Somehow, she had been touched by his heart. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. It made no sense. She wanted only to serve…ever since that day when Renly Baratheon saved her, she wanted to serve. It was selfish to love…

"Brienne?" his voice was soft behind her, and she heard him shut the door.

She closed her eyes, and she heard him move toward her.

"Brienne?"

He was kneeling in front of her when she opened her eyes. "Is that wise, considering your injury?"

"I'm fine. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she muttered, looking at her hands.

"Something's happened. Did they find Pod?"

"Please don't mention him."

"God they did," and he took her hand.

"No," she retrieved it. "They did not," she looked at him now. "I'm just…"

He stood. "Don't say you're changing your mind."

Brienne looked up at him. "It's complicated."

"It's only complicated if you allow it to be."

"It's simply not a matter of me allowing anything," she stood now, too. "You were the one who was in love with his sister. You were the one who…" she stopped, looking at the reaction on his face. She swallowed. "I spoke with Tyrion."

"You did," his voice held some exasperation. "And what did my little brother say?"

"That you loved me."

He cocked a brow. "And should that be shocking to you, considering my many declarations?"

"That you were broken."

He started at this and took a step back.

"And that I should follow my heart."

"And what does your heart tell you?"

"To be cautious," she brushed passed him. "But…I suppose that caution can only take one so far. All my life I've kept people at arm's length, afraid to love…"

"That's simply not true. Your entire life has been about sacrificing yourself for others. For people who you care about," he went over to her and took her elbow so that she faced him. "You have loved more deeply than nearly anyone I've known. You just don't call it love. You call it honor. And you protect those whom you love better than anyone. You think that you cannot love because of how you look," he dropped her arm. "But I'm here to tell you that you're beautiful. I would not love an ugly woman."

She smiled. "That was one of the very first things you said to me, you know."

"What?"

"You said, 'You're even uglier in the daylight.'"

He winced. "Forgive me. I had been trying to rile you."

"I know," she looked at her feet.

"Jaime."

"Hm?"

"Help me," she took his hand.

"Do you trust me?"

Brienne nodded. "As well as I trust anyone."

He sighed and ran his hand up her arm to her face.

And he kissed her.

Soft at first, for he wanted to ease her mind, he deftly felt her mouth…and it was sweet in its own right.

Different from the way he had ever kissed Cersei, and more like the first kiss he had ever had, the one maid he had kept to himself, even though they had shared but a few kisses.

Tender, then, and his hand wrapped around her neck. He stepped closer to her, and pressed against her. He felt her intake of breath. "Still all right?"

She nodded, though she felt quite tense.

"We can stop."

"No. We shouldn't," she placed her palms against his chest, and then dropped them to his waist. Brienne began to unbuckle his belts.

He studied her face as she deftly dropped them to the floor. He swallowed, then took her tunic and began to lift it over her head. He struggled only slightly from his lack of a right hand, but years without it made it near seamless. "You wear a lot of clothing," he said, examining her…

"It's cold."

He smiled, then took his own tunic off, and walked over to the bed, sitting down. He started to slide his golden hand off. "I wish sometimes that I didn't lose my hand. It would make things like undressing myself much easier. But then," and he looked at her. "Everything would be different, for it was this loss coupled with meeting you, that I think I truly began to change."

"It's when I began to look at you differently, certainly," she folded her hands in front of her.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me? I don't mind, but it might be more fun if you sit and join me," he put his hand on the bed next to him.

"Are you nervous?" she asked very softly, and not looking at him.

"Desperately," he replied. "But I promise, as I did earlier, we needn't do anything that you're uncomfortable with."

She lifted her gaze, and he met it with intensity. She dropped her hands and went over to him, sitting next to him and lifting the three remaining shirts from her body. He watched as she did it, eyes wide. And she reached for him, kissing him, and laying back onto the bed.

He rolled on top of her and ran his hand over her torso, caressing everything that he could, feeling the intensity of the moment. It was wonderful, for many reasons. But mostly, because he had yearned for the first time in his life, and now it was coming to fruition.

Brienne was overwrought, and felt impatient for more. It was nothing like she had imagined…all desperation and want. She had always thought that love, and its act, would be tiresome, something to be done to satisfy the man.

But she was just as aroused and felt the intensity of the moment crashing around her in the form of Jaime Lannister. He was all there was then…no fear, no cold, no…

…sound.

Her breath came quick as he slid her pants off of her and onto the floor. He pulled back for just a second. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, and he covered her mouth with his as she felt him enter her.

The world stopped.

And Brienne was there, but not. She was suspended in time, for her mind was blocking out everything but the immediate, and as she felt him move atop her, she turned her head, overcome.

He kissed her neck.

She closed her eyes.

"I love you," he breathed, his movement seeming quicker.

And she felt the tear streak down her face.

Yet all was quiet.

She turned and kissed him again…and as she did, she felt him climax, and he nuzzled her neck.

"I'm sorry," he said into the bed.

"For what?"

"Being selfish," and he turned and fell to her side.

"I don't understand."

"You should have had the same experience as I just did. Give me a moment," he put his hand to his forehead.

"I still don't…"

"Brienne. Women can, and should…" he swallowed. "Climax. Just as I did. But I couldn't last. Just give me a moment."

She had not heard of this. She had believed intercourse was almost exclusively for the enjoyment of men, when she thought about it at all. She got up and covered herself with the blanket, then took his arm so that he went under with her, too. "Can we just be here for a bit?"

"What? You mean lay here?"

She nodded.

"Of course," and he laid back, taking his left arm and wrapping it around her so that she was close.

She closed her eyes. "I love you, Jaime Lannister."

She felt him kiss the top of her head.

And then there was silence.

* * *

_And so that's it. Thanks for reading! Doubtful that these scenes will play out on the show, but I suppose that's what this forum serves. _

_Maybe I'll do __another, longer story next month...after the show and once I'm done with work for the summer. _


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